


Is It Dark White Or Light Black? Either Way, It Feels Cold.

by PrussiaIsntDead



Series: Lunch Club One-Shots [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, angst kinda, projecting onto people i guess, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussiaIsntDead/pseuds/PrussiaIsntDead
Summary: Even in a hoodie that just got out of the dryer, even after eating a warm dinner, and after standing outside for a bit, why does it still fell like I'm going to freeze?[Warning: Please don't read if you are prone to get depressed after reading sad things. Depression is a heavy topic in this story, so if you might get upset, please just skip over this.]
Series: Lunch Club One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698118
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Is It Dark White Or Light Black? Either Way, It Feels Cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a warning: There will be themes of depression and anxiety in this story, as well as some topics that might be triggering to people.  
> Topics include:
> 
> -Self hatred  
> -[mentions of] cutting  
> -Anxiety/panic
> 
> Yes, i'm aware that this would fit Carson better. No, I will not change it.

It made him want to hit something really really hard. But that would end up with him hurt and then he would have to explain why he did it, and then his friends would find the pills and then they would be worried and then OH GOD THEY WOULD HATE HIM THEY WOULD MAKE FUN OF HIM BECAUSE HE'S SO WEAK AND BE

Travis blinked to regain focus. He looked at the empty pill container in his hand. He had been taking his medicine every day for the past week and a half. He laughed. It wasn't filled with humour or warmth, just spite and bitterness. He let his arms hang limply at his sides as he felt pins and needles go through them. He looked up, his eyes starting to burn. God, he was such a screw-up. He could never do anything right. What happened to him? He used to get straight A's in class, and said whatever came to his mind. Then he started to fail, and became wary of how he spoke. He started to get worse and worse grades. Now he was diagnosed with severe depression, generalized anxiety, and bipolar disorder. It really makes you look back on when you were called a "gifted" kid, huh?

He hated himself. He hated how he never got things done and how he would stay in bed for ungodly hours debating whether getting up was worth it. He hated how he procrastinated while his mind begged and pleaded for him to do something-anything! Travis hated how he wouldn't come out of his room, or answer messages just asking how his day was, and he hated himself for sleeping his problems away. He hated how he couldn't bring himself to even cut because he was scared. He always messed everything up, including his own mental disorders. 

Travis stopped counting the days he felt cold. Stopped counting the days he didn't feel like rolling over to slap his alarm into silence. Stopped counting the days he stopped smiling. He stopped laughing. He stopped going out. He simply didn't have the emotional capacity to care. All he could feel was empty, cold, and gray. He felt the urge to slam his fist into every mirror he saw himself in, yet couldn't figure out why. Oh well.

He started to stim more often. Whether it be rocking back and forth, humming to no tune for no reason, or just flapping his hands because he felt like it. He got weird looks, and he got teased. It reminded him of things he heard from his mother as a kid when he would stim in public.

_"Travis, stop rocking,"_  
"Why?"  
"People will think something's wrong with you,"

If only he could tell himself it only got so much worse. It started when he was thirteen, when holidays stopped being fun. Every day he would try to fake sick so he could stay home.

Then he figured out his favourite colour was not yellow. It was gray. Or was it dark white? Or light black? Either way, it felt like he was going to die from hypothermia before he ever figured it out.


End file.
